


Oasis

by bloodvvitch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Will Graham, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet, Hannibal is a little shit, Introspection, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sub Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodvvitch/pseuds/bloodvvitch
Summary: Will overthinks... well, everything.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, past Will Graham/Molly Graham - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	Oasis

**Author's Note:**

> I have this horrible habit of writing kinktober prompts and then... not focusing on the sex. Whoops!
> 
> Anyway, here's bondage.

To be owned by the right person was a delicious experience, and one that Will had missed for long years before he had stumbled into Hannibal’s path.

As his arms were cuffed behind his back Will ran his finger over his new wedding band. The one he’d taken from Molly was long since lost in the New England surf, that ring a symbol of a false promise, and now a sunken testament to a charade of a life. She had never fully laid claim to him, and he had never gotten up the gumption to claim her. Why bother giving her more than the veneer of emotion while Hannibal was still alive? There had seemed no sense in loving someone when your heart was not your own.

Will had been right to hold back. Because she had not claimed him Molly would be safe, and as happy as a woman twice-widowed could be. But it was strange how that still mattered to him; though she was not loved she had been, for a time, his family. Perhaps that was why he cared for her wellbeing.

Rope pulled taught against his skin and he hummed in pleasure. He wasn’t quite floating yet, but he could feel the undertow lapping at him. It quenched the raw ache at the edge of his mind and muffled his racing thoughts. A leash was clipped to his collar.

They both had an appreciation for leashes, though Will was more partial to them. He liked the sense of direction they gave, and the inherent limitation they imposed. He didn’t have to think while wearing one.

“A penny for your thoughts, dear Will,” Hannibal purred into the shell of his ear, “I sense they are not upon the present moment.”

Will huffed a laugh. “I’m contemplating… the weight of bonds, both physical and interpersonal.” His thumb slid along the warm metal of his ring, eyes following Hannibal as he moved to stand over Will’s kneeling form. “Which I happen to think is very… topical. But if I tell you any of that, beloved, I’m afraid we’ll get on to another philosophical discussion, which would derail my plans.”

Hannibal was smiling down at him, eyes beatific and nearly kind. “Dear Will, you’re hardly in a position to be making plans,” he said, and gestured to the ropes abrading his skin, tying together the leather cuffs on ankle and wrist, the collar at his throat. Hannibal’s eyes roamed over his creation, and Will was certain he’d like the patterning of shadow and skin if he were able to see it. Hannibal had a mind for creating masterpieces, and Will had an eye for appreciating them, particularly when he was the subject.

“It’s simple, as plans go,” Will said, watching his husband raise an eyebrow in feigned interest, eyes still assessing the artwork woven around Will’s body. “I want you to come down my throat sometime before dawn.” Hannibal’s eyes snapped up to Will’s, and the tension sparked between them. 

Hannibal kept his eyes on Will as his hands worked at his belt, smile turning smug and indulgent. Will parted his lips, tongue flicking out to wet them, to make them plush and welcoming for his beloved’s cock. Hannibal stepped closer as he took himself in one hand, and Will felt the other slip through his curls to guide him through the first thrusts until Will caught on to the pace. The fingers in his hair relaxed and started playing with his curls, and Will had a few soft moments of peace before Hannibal spoke.

“Bond’s, dear Will, can be an anchor. They keep us tethered to the realities that we find comforting, and may act as an exercise in restraint-”

Will just rolled his eyes and groaned around Hannibal’s cock as he listened to his husband monologue. When Will heard the word ‘aestheticism’ he sighed through his nose and redoubled his efforts until even Hannibal’s composure slipped and the proceedings could – _finally_ – devolve into hedonism and debauchery.


End file.
